i feign to say
what i cannot share. 
bite my tongue
like i do not care. 
the demons draw blood, 
as i beg for air.
here comes a verse…
i did not prepare.

sullied by half-truths, 
the mind lays bare -
to a world of treachery;
governed by distant affairs. 
i cannot be a saint,
though i have some 
good to spare;  
they fuel my incense, as i - 
say my morning prayers.

look around - 
they’re everywhere. 
the sinners crawl from 
the devil’s lair; 
and though i resist,
i must follow: 
how’s that even fair? 
**** it -
i’ll end it here.